Too many questions

He walked several feet behind me as we trudged home.

"Where do you live?" I asked not looking back at him.

"A couple blocks from your apartment building,"

I nodded in understanding and sighed.

"I can make you some soup if you want," he offered.

"Please die,"

A low whistle escaped his lips and that was followed by a chuckle.

"You're a grumpy patient aren't you?"

"Please kill your self,"

We finally arrived in front of my apartment building and I finally decided to face him.

I glanced at his awkward disposition and mentally rolled my eyes at his arrogance toward me.

Hands stuffed in his pocket.

That smirk that graced his lips.

His features that contorted into a look that said "I told you so"

I. Hate. Him

Yet he was the only one that could tell so many things about me in one day that my close comrades of several years could not.

Hate, sadness, anger, frustration, ...self hate he saw it all in minutes.

"Thanks for..."

"Noticing you?" he finished for me.

"Please just jump off a cliff"

"Here," Augie said while handing me some paper and a pencil, "draw me something"

"August you know I can't draw," I mumbled from under my blanket.

Mother thought it was wise I stay home from school, being that I nearly fainted when I arrived home yesterday.

It hurt my soul that Anthony was correct about my impending illness, but I was sick nonetheless with Augie as company.

Augie climbed onto my bed with both pencil and paper shoving it closer in my peripheral as a "subtle" hint for me to draw him some thing.

"Maya isn't here so you don't have to pretend, you use to always draw for me all the time before,"

I closed my eyes in an attempt to ignore him but his whimpering made me want to commit the most unspeakable crimes on to him.

I shall not be a murderer on this day, Hitchcock your whistling shall not sway me

"Fine what do you want?"

"Surprise me," he beamed.

I gave him a half smile in return before snatching the paper and pencil from his hand and walking over to my desk. He followed suit and watched from over my shoulder.

"You should draw more," he mumbled as I began my sketch.

"We already spoke about this,"

"How comes Maya gets all the recognition for her art and you don't?"

"Artistic charity," the words rolled off my lips as if it was a real thing, that actually justified my fraudulent acts.

He stayed silent for the rest of the sketching process and I handed him the paper once I finished the lightly sketched drawing. I was in no condition to finish, he must content himself with that draft I'm afraid.

"Its mom," he chimed.

"She is a beautiful muse," I mumbled as I trudged back to bed.

I snickered at my own conceit as I did resemble my mother in many ways.

"Hey," he wondered out loud while walking over to my bed, "whats this thing that you signed with?"

"Its a cat, I was too lazy to get my purple crayons," I murmured before blinking my eyes shut.

He giggled "you sign your art with purple cats now?"

"Its a simple yet fun way to keep my work anonymous,"

I kept my eyes shut, but I could still feel his presence over my head. He respected my need for quiet by simply watching my sleeping form. It wasn't before long that he left me in my deep slumber.

I needed rest.

I slowly adjusted my eyes to the blurry silhouette over my head.

"Are you okay," she asked in a sympathetic tone.

Of course not - I'm dying, but your worrying is appreciated.

"Yeah," I smiled back despite my grogginess.

Maya was sitting next to me on my bed looking me over in concern.

"You look awful,"

Her statement was met with a fit of uncontrollably sneezing and coughs.

"You need anything?"

I shook my head before turning on my side.

She wanted something from me, I could tell from the awkward silence.

"How's Smackle," she murmured.

So it was information she desired.

"I'm not sure, why do you ask?"

I felt her shift beside me before clearing her throat.

"Its just Zay said something today that got me worried,"

"Like?"

"He said one of our friends has been looking depressed lately. He didn't specify"

"That's an interesting observation,"

She left after our usual useless banter ended and climbed back out through the window as she always did.

I continued to lay in my bed gazing at nothing in particular on my ceiling.

I then rolled my eyes at the sheer boringness of it all.

Zay you are too predictable.

It had been an entire week that I had to listen to Augusts whines, an entire week I had to endure useless conversations with the blonde I call a best friend, an entire week not knowing what happened to Smackle and its all because of...

" So how are you feeling?" Anthony queried while walking next to me.

He must have hexed me.

"Have you talked to Smackle in my absence?" I asked choosing to ignore his question.

"She's fine, I keep telling you,"

"Then there is no need for further conversation,"

He then grabbed my shoulder, halting both of us.

"Hey Smackle isn't the only reason why I talk to you," he stated seriously.

"And I should care about that because?"

He scoffed at my reply before rolling his eyes.

"You're a novelist-,"

"I prefer playwright," I corrected.

There was no use in beating around the bush with someone working back stage.

"Okay playwright, don't you think I want to see how this story ends?"

"Whats the point if you don't even know the beginning?"

He was at a loss for words and I had no intention of entertaining his...whatever he wanted from me. I took his silence as the end if our conversation and resumed my walk to my class room.

"Then tell me the beginning," he called out loud enough for my retreating form and a few other unrelated passersby to hear.

I quickly spun around to glare at him, but he was already walking toward me and grabbing my hand, pulling me in his direction. I watched the back of his head incredulously as I allowed him to lead me to the roof of the school.

"Alright shoot," he ordered upon our arrival.

"I wish I could, but unfortunately I am without weapon,"

He rolled his eyes before taking a seat on the ground next to my foot. I blinked down at him before sighing. I looked around my surroundings making sure we were really alone before taking a seat next to him. He smiled at and I resisted the urge to role my eyes.

"Why is my story so interesting to you?" I asked leaning on the wall behind us.

"Because- I want to know about the kind of story that would make you so sad,"

I knitted my eyebrows together and averted my gaze from him the the ground.

I didn't say anything for a while, but he was patient with me.

He could read me like a book and I hated it, I hated him.

Finally against my better judgement I gave into his request.

"It all started when a curious blonde climbed through my window,"